


Keeping Secrets From Yourself

by withthekeyisking



Series: Batfam Week 2020 [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batfam Week, Batfam Week 2020, Betrayal, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Family Secrets, Gen, Kidnapping, Metahuman Cassandra Cain, Metahuman Damian Wayne, Metahuman Dick Grayson, Metahuman Jason Todd, Metahuman Tim Drake, Metahumans, Open Ending, Stress, bruce done did a fuck up, electric shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22717243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: Looking back, the signs are all there. But they never noticed it about themselves.They never noticed how Brucedid.
Series: Batfam Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640407
Comments: 82
Kudos: 816
Collections: Tales from the Cave





	Keeping Secrets From Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Overprotectiveness | Meeting the Justice League | **Meta-Human AU**

Dick really isn't worried about the position they've found themselves in.

In their long careers as vigilantes, it's become common place to end up captured at one point or another. Certainly not a _fun_ experience, but one they're used to nonetheless. Barely even worth any amount of panic these days, not to them. Not to their level of skill in getting out of tricky situations.

Of course, it is a _little_ more concerning that their gear, gloves, and boots have been removed, quite an impressive feat considering that between the seven of them, they're practically covered head to toe in weapons and other delightful goodies.

Dick watches their captors mill about, examining the way they interact, their patterns, the process to get in and out of the two-door exit. He can see the rest of his family doing the same, second-nature by this point to gleam as much information as possible before making any moves.

They're in some sort of lab, something that makes Dick thinks of the CADMUS experiment labs they've explored (and taken down) before. They're locked up tight, arms reaching up towards the ceiling far above them in metal spheres, legs spread and trapped in metal boots that are stuck to the floor in some way, Dick's guess on magnetics.

It's impossible to even twitch his fingers or wiggle his toes, that's how effectively in place they've gotten them. Going by the minute twitching in his family's bodies and the frustration practically radiating off of them, they're experiencing the same struggle to gain any significant movement. Tugging too hard on the bonds also draws a stun of electricity that locks his muscles for a few agonizing seconds before fading, a warning against fighting.

Okay, so yeah, maybe Dick is a _little_ worried.

But still, they've made it out of worse.

A majority of their captors are scientists, white lab coats and all, and barely seem to notice that the people they have tied up are, in fact, _people,_ referring to them as Subjects A through G, approaching from time to time to draw blood or run odd devices up and down their frames, like gathering data. It's a little freaky, but with all the crazies they usually handle in Gotham, this is almost _normal._

A scientist approaches Dick with a thin glass tube and a long cotton swab, and Dick's eyebrows go up, watching the scientist start to shove it towards his face.

"You know," Dick says, tilting his head back to avoid the stick, "usually I wait 'till the _third_ date to let anyone put something that long in my mouth."

The scientist looks utterly unimpressed by his dirty humor. A shame; she'd be quite pretty if not for the stereotypical evil scientist thing she has going on. She turns to look at one of the guards milling about and sharply orders, "Open his jaw for me."

Dick narrows his eyes, clenching his jaw stubbornly, but the guard uses a considerable amount of strength to pry his jaw open, uncaring of the pain he causes. Dick glares at him and the woman both, but it deters them not at all. The scientist swipes the cotton swab along the inside of his cheek and then pulls away, indicating the guard could release him.

The process is repeated with the rest of his family, and then everyone goes back to pretending they don't exist.

Dick's almost _offended_ by the lack of attention. Here there are, the great heroes of Gotham, best of the best, and no one can even spare a _glance?_ No one has any manners these days.

If they were all bound closer together, communicating would be easier, but as is, they're far apart enough that it would be impossible to talk without being overheard. And with the way their hands are so thoroughly bound, hand signals are out as well. They're doing their best with facial expressions and subtle nods, but it's still going to take a while before escape is possible.

Great. This is _totally_ how Dick wanted to spend his Saturday night. It's not like he had a date with the newest Netflix TV show, or anything.

"Subject D is negative," Dick hears one of them say after a little way, gesturing towards the screen in front of them. The brief glance over at Stephanie tells Dick which of them is _Subject D._

"Unsurprising," someone else says, squinting at the screen and scrolling over the results. "I don't know why you think any of them will turn up positive; these heroes are pretty well-known for being _human._ This is a waste of time."

Dick frowns. What are they testing for, exactly?

"We need to make sure," another responds, not looking up from their own work station. "We need to account for all variables before we begin; if any of them are enhanced it'll skew our results. Better safe than sorry, Erin."

 _Ah,_ they want to see if the heroes in their possession are _metahumans._ Of course, the part about this all being a lead-up to some sort of experiment—with them as the subjects—is a little concerning, but for now at least this is predictable. And they're _certainly_ going to be wasting their time; the Bats of Gotham are 100% human, no metagene in sight.

"Subject A negative," is announced about five minutes later.

Someone chuckles. "The Gotham underworld will be relieved to know that the Batman is, in fact, just human."

"Is anyone else bored?" Jason drawls, looking over at Tim and then Dick. The helmet prevents them from seeing his expression, but Dick can picture his raised eyebrow, his smirk; the need to challenge is practically emanating from him. "Because I'm bored."

Suddenly Jason spasms, letting out a strangled noise; it seems someone didn't appreciate his snark, and decided to briefly turn on the electricity on his bindings.

"Yeah," Jason says when it's over, a little breathless but not winded, "saw that comin'."

Dick snorts, shaking his head, and then glances over to one of the scientists when the computer they're in front of beeps, an alert popping up. The scientist pauses, clicking it open, and frowns. Refreshes the notification. The frown turns into an incredulous expression.

"Subject B tests positive for a metagene," he says, and everyone freezes. Slowly, all of the scientists turn to look at Dick, and with them, the rest of his family.

Dick's stunned for all of three seconds before he laughs. "Your machines are broken," he chuckles. "I'm not a meta, geniuses. Pure, 100%, unadulterated human. Sorry to disappoint."

"Let me see," another scientist says, pushing towards the computer that had given the alert. Dick keeps his gaze fixed on them, unable to help watching, but he can feel the eyes of his family on him instead. The computer's system slowly reboots, then they reopen the message, and it says the exact same thing.

"Let's retest," one of them says, and suddenly they're heading towards Dick, excitement quickening their steps.

"I'm telling you, I don't have powers!" Dick insists, trying not to flinch away as they begin drawing blood again.

"You might not even know," someone answers absently, the first time any of them have actually spoken to their captives. "Plenty of people live their lives unaware of the potential inside of them. How _fascinating._ With the life you live, filled with stressors, your abilities should've been activated a long time ago!"

Another cotton swab in his mouth, a clip around his finger to check his oxygen, and when someone's gaze lingers thoughtfully on his groin he narrows his eyes, absolutely uninterested in donating a pee sample.

"I don't have abilities," Dick says, exasperated, and this time they ignore him completely, going back over to their stations to do the tests again. He glances over at his family, sees Tim and Damian frowning; he can practically feel their concern, and he's about to once again talk about how _stupid_ this is when a separate scientist's station beeps loudly, someone else's results coming up.

Excitedly, all the white coats crowd around, looking it over. "Holy shit," one of them says, a tad breathless, "there's two of them!"

They turn to Tim. "Have you been aware of your abilities?" someone asks, eyes bright.

Tim gapes at them, incredulous. "You're shitting me, right? I don't have powers!"

"What are the odds here?" someone asks their colleagues, shaking their head. "I mean—two of these heroes test positive with obviously no knowledge of it beforehand? Is this—could our machines just be giving only false positives?"

"But we got two negatives!" another counters. "We _know_ it has the ability to produce both results."

Another computer beeps. "No way." They look at Jason.

Another goes off. "All four?" They look at Damian. "This is insane! No way!"

"I am _not_ a metahuman," Damian sneers. "I cannot believe we've been kidnapped by such imbeciles."

"Okay," Dick says calmly, "everyone needs to take a deep breath. None of us have powers, alright? We're not metas. We're kinda famous for that, right? The Bats of Gotham are the best of the best, and _just human."_

One more alert, and the scientists rush over to it excitedly, looking over the results. "Another positive!" Cass, the last of them. "Forget our other experiment, we should study _this._ Need to run more tests, find out what their abilities are, how they've gone so long without figuring it out, how it might've affected their careers as heroes—"

There's a large boom then, the building shaking around them. The scientists all startle, the guards all reaching for their weapons, but the fight's over before it even begins when Superman and Green Lantern come busting in, making quick work of rounding up the villains and releasing Dick and the others from their bindings.

"You're welcome!" Hal Jordan says, grinning widely at Bruce. "See that, Bats, _I_ saved you!"

Normally, a statement like that would draw an eye roll or a scoff from multiple members of the family, certainly a verbal response from Bruce. But right now, they have many other things on their minds, and his words barely even reach them as they put all their gear back on.

"Let's go," Bruce says coolly, and they all disperse, heading back to the batcave, not even saying a word to the heroes who had come to help them out.

Dick's heart is pounding in his chest the entire bike ride back. This is all just...so ridiculous. Isn't it? He's twenty-eight years old, been a hero since he was nine, interacting with metas and the like the entire time. He'd know if he had powers! They'd _all_ know if they had powers! It's not the kind of thing you just _miss._ Whatever those whack-job scientists thought they figured out, they were wrong. They're _wrong._

And that's all there is to it.

Right?

* * *

Tim is barely daring to breathe, striding into the batcave with quiet steps. Jason and Steph are loud, their voices carrying and echoing through the space, neither arguing nor agreeing about what they just found out.

No, correction—they didn't _find out_ anything. The scientists were wrong. Tim and his family are not metahumans.

But...

"I'm saying it's bullshit!" Jason announces for the millionth time, pulling off his helmet and slamming it down on one of the work tables. He rips off the domino mask with it, turning his vibrant gaze on the rest of them. "I'd like powers as much as the next guy—they'd certainly help with the whole vigilante thing—but that doesn't mean jack shit."

"Pardon the interruption," Alfred says, stepping forward cautiously, eyes sharp, "but _what,_ may I ask, is going on?"

"A bunch of evil scientists said that they have powers," Steph says in her typical blunt fashion, jerking a thumb towards the rest of them, save Bruce. She's pulled down her hood, and though her expression is overall dismissive, there's a furrow between her brows that strikes Tim as _worried._

"Ah," Alfred says, realization dawning on his face and in his voice. He glances at Bruce briefly, so very briefly, and then towards Tim and the others. "Well, that's quite the odd—"

"I'd like to take blood samples," Tim interrupts, because he won't be able to stand it if Alfred lies to them. Tim's always been so observant, and he sees Alfred's look, he sees the chastisement and worry and sadness and disappointment when he spares a glance at Bruce—Tim sees it all, brief as it is, and he almost can't stand it. He almost can't stand the implications.

"You're joking, right?" Jason scoffs. "Tim, Timmy, we don't need to take _blood samples,_ because this has _no basis in reality._ Get some sleep, put this behind you."

"Bruce," Cass says softly, drawing all of their attention. She looks confused, concerned, staring at their father. "Why?"

Bruce is unreadable under the cowl. Dick sucks in a sharp breath, hand raising to his mouth.

"Wait a minute," he says, voice strangled and betrayed, "you _knew?_ How—why would you keep this a secret? _How_ could you possibly—?"

"This is preposterous!" Damian cuts in. _"None_ of us have abilities, and in the impossible scenario where we _do,_ father _certainly_ wouldn't have known about it or kept it a secret!"

"Master Bruce," Alfred says softly, regretfully. "I think it might be time."

"No, no, no," Jason says quickly, looking between the butler and the bat. "No, you can't be serious. We'd know if we had powers. We'd _know."_

"You do know," Bruce says, voice devoid of anything. "You've simply explained it all away."

"This is so messed up," Steph says bluntly, and starts inching awkwardly towards the showers. "I'm...gonna bow out. Good luck with...whatever this is, guys."

None of them pay her any attention, focused solely on their father, not understanding how this could be possible.

"Why don't you explain what that means," Dick says tightly. "Tell us what the _hell is going on!"_ He looks angry, hands clenched at his sides.

"Shields, Dick," Bruce orders, and Dick's eyes automatically close, taking a deep breath, and then he freezes, eyes popping open again.

"Wait," he says softly, incredulously. "You always...you always were so forceful about me learning to shield my mind, saying it was good to do with so many telepaths in the world. But you beat it into my head so much harder than the others. I just assumed it was because I was the first you trained, and you learned to relax a bit about this subject by the time Jason came, but..." He shakes his head. "What's the real reason, Bruce?"

Bruce purses his lips. Tim sees the minute tick of his jaw, hears the leather of his gauntlets creek as he clenches his fists under the cover of the cape. He never wanted this day to come, that's obvious. It leaves Tim feeling so...lost, shaken, like the ground beneath his feet is shifting without control. Bruce is someone he's supposed to be able to always put his faith in; with such a gigantic thing kept from them all, something so deeply a part of them—how could they possibly trust him again?

"Truth, no lies," Cass says firmly.

"You're an empath, Dick," Bruce says calmly. "Everything you're feeling right now, how powerful it all is—you're feeling everyone else's emotions, too. When you get upset you tend to drop your shields, and this happens. It's why I was so thorough in teaching you to put walls up around your mind; it keeps your mind your own, and keeps you from influencing others, as well. It also limits a bit how strongly you sense others' emotions."

"I don't..." Dick trails off, unsure. "No, I'd notice if..."

"Master Richard," Alfred says gently, stepping forward. "You've always been so tuned into how others are feeling, so observant and understanding and good at reading people. There's more to it than just being an empathetic person, at the level you express. We've seen it for years, especially before Master Bruce taught you to shield your mind." He hesitates, then adds, "Do you remember how on days of great tragedy you used to have—"

"Panic attacks," Dick whispers, staring blankly at the wall. "There was so much pain everywhere, it was almost like a physical thing..." He looks at Bruce. "Why would you keep this from me? Why wouldn't you _explain?"_

"Metahumans face far more dangers out in the world than regular humans do. And this ability didn't impact your life enough that being outward about it was necessary. It was easy for you to pass as a sensitive person, with the tools I gave you to control your ability. You didn't ever have to be anything other than the regular hero you were. The hero you _enjoyed_ being."

He glances around. "That's the reason I never told any of you. When I observed that each of you exhibited abilities, I weighed the negatives and the benefits and came to the conclusion each time that it was better and safer for this to remain an unacknowledged aspect of yourselves."

"That's not your decision," Jason says incredulously. "Are you serious, Bruce? You kept the fact that _we have powers_ from us? What are they, then? What the hell can I do?"

"Enhanced speed, strength, and agility," Bruce lists, voice just as calm and unruffled as ever. "It's always given you an edge, always made training and missions just slightly easier than it should've been, but never in a large enough way that it attracted any notice."

"And me?" Tim asks quietly.

"Enhanced senses," Bruce says. "Sight, hearing, scent, taste, touch—like Jason, small enough to not be seen as anything other than just being above average."

Tim thinks back to all the times he's noticed the smallest of things that no one else saw until looking much closer. The things he heard a moment before it reached the others' ears. The smells that always seemed far stronger to him than anyone else, the food that tasted so much richer on his taste buds than anyone else's. All the small things he barely paid any attention to, thinking himself simply a _smidge_ ahead of the rest of them.

But all along, he had powers.

"Father?"

Tim looks over to Damian. The youngest of them is watching Bruce, an extremely uncertain look on his face. His stance might be steady and his chin might be raised proudly, but none of it can hide the naked vulnerability in his eyes and in the downward curve of his lips.

"Your bonds with the animals," Bruce starts, and his tone is far softer than it has been thus far. "Damian, the way you understand them, speak to them—other people don't understand animals like that. You have an _ability,_ son."

Damian's brow furrows and he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. He looks upset, confused, and Tim can't blame him. He's feeling that, himself, and he can't stop his eyes from drifting to Dick, the apparent empath, who must be so bombarded at the moment by all of their powerful, conflicted feelings. The elder man is staring at the floor, his jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides. He's shifting his weight back and forth ever-so-slightly, as if desperate to move but forcing himself to stay still.

"And Cass?" Dick asks, not looking up.

"I hadn't confirmed my suspicions yet," Bruce tells them, "simply had a strong guess. Today proves my suspicion correct."

"What was your _suspicion?"_ Jason asks, practically spitting it out. He's almost vibrating with his anger, surely resentful of having something about himself hidden from his knowledge, the choice of doing anything about it ripped from his hands. Tim can sympathize with the feeling.

"A level of short precog," Bruce says curtly, and looks at his daughter. "I'd say its limit is at sixty or so seconds, but you have a tendency to know something is going to happen directly before it happens, whether that means someone saying something in particular or a wave of bullets about to rain down."

Cass purses her lips, brow furrowed angrily. "You were wrong to hide this," she says. She glances at Alfred. _"Both_ of you."

"I wanted to protect you," Bruce says with all the conviction of a powerful man not used to being wrong.

"You wanted to control us!" Dick snaps, and then he winces, knuckling at his forehead for a moment. "Christ, and now I'm second-guessing myself, wondering what I'm actually feeling versus picking up from everyone else."

"I wanted to avoid that—"

"Don't you dare," Jason cuts in. "Don't say this is what you were _protecting_ us from. Right now Dick's doubting himself because _maybe_ if you'd told him about this _years ago_ he would have enough practice identifying the difference that he wouldn't be so worried about it! It's _your_ fault that he's facing this problem right now, _not_ his!"

"We had the right to know this," Tim says coolly. "You lied to us about what we _are,_ Bruce, and your excuses aren't nearly good enough to make up for it."

"You've always had a distaste for metahumans," Damian says stiffly. "It would be inconvenient that your children started developing powers, would it not? How _lucky_ that the abilities were subtle enough you could keep it to yourself and not have the _burden_ of metahuman heroes in Gotham."

Bruce's lips press into a thin line. "That was _not_ why I made this decision."

"But it was a contributing factor," Cass says softly. Bruce doesn't deny it.

"None of you are a burden," it what he does say. "You are my children, and no matter _what_ you are, that fact will never change."

"Good for you," Jason sneers. He grabs his helmet from the table, securing it back on his head. "I'm out of here. Thanks for proving once again, B, how far your controlling personality goes. It's always nice to have a reminder."

He starts heading towards the exit, and pulls up short in front of Dick and Tim, head tilting towards them. He hesitates, shifting his weight, and then juts his chin up. "Don't let this slide," he says seriously. "This is too big to let go, so don't do it." He raises his voice, _"Any_ of you."

Jason starts walking away again, then calls over his shoulder, "Can't believe I'm saying this, but if you're suddenly finding yourself a member of the _Holy Shit I Guess I Have Powers_ club, you're welcome to come over to my place and bitch about the fact that you're only just learning this _now."_ At a mutter, he adds, "Maybe we can even figure it all out together."

Tim's lips quirk, seeing the way Jason's hands are shaking slightly as he gets onto his bike, the purposefully even breaths as he drives away.

Dick murmurs, "He doesn't want to be alone."

It's a wonder they never noticed anything off.

"I don't think any of you should leave right now," Bruce says seriously.

"Why, because we're stressed by being deceived for years and could get ourselves hurt if we were to act recklessly right now?" Tim asks, cocking his head. "Considered it, and I don't think I care. Not right now."

He glances over his remaining siblings, all just as unsure as he is. They could've been something so much bigger, so much more focused and _powerful,_ if they'd known about the extra weapons in their arsenal. Maybe they would've chosen to keep the powers quiet and not really use them, let the world continue thinking the batclan of Gotham is made up of pure humans, but they should have had the _option_ to decide for themselves.

They'll need to train, to really figure out the limits of their abilities, learn how to _really_ use them to their fullest extent. This should've happened _years_ ago, but he can admit to some level of excitement over this.

"Yeah," Dick says softly, and starts walking towards the showers. "I think I'm gonna go see Jason." He slings his arm around Damian as he walks past the younger boy, pulling him clos against his side, and Tim hears him murmur, "We're gonna be okay, baby bat. You wanna come with me?"

Damian turns his face in against his big brother's chest and nods.

Tim and Cass exchange a glance, a grimace, and follow as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed Day 1, and I hope you like all the fics in the coming week! 😁
> 
> See y'all tomorrow!


End file.
